


An Outstretched Hand

by Trifoilum



Series: An Offering [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Internalized Lack of Self-Worth, M/M, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Pining, Self-Esteem Issues, Tsunderes, Yes I'm talking about Helbindi, kabedon, summer helbindi come home plz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 10:29:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19332730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trifoilum/pseuds/Trifoilum
Summary: He didn’t know what this thing between them was. It ain’t pity, fuck no, Helbindi would have literally tossed the summoner away if Kiran ever thought he was pathetic, but this was equally brittle. Breaking the stalemate would be easy, no shit, except his role in the battlefield was never one of precision. All he did was to charge through the enemy ranks and smash their formation to dust.That was—unnecessary. Yes, unnecessary. Forget the fact that he had no longer looked forward into clashing with Askr. No point in harming the summoner with his brutality. They were no longer in war.





	An Outstretched Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warning: Internalized lack of self-worth. See end notes for more
> 
> Not beta-ed. Kudos, comments, and criticism are deeply welcomed <3
> 
> ETA 5 July 2019: Edited some thing a bit, adding others.

Gotta admit, this beach exceeded Helbindi’s low expectations.

Surtr’s Muspell had no idea of a vacation. He managed to survive, but the former general didn’t know how much he needed the downtime until he arrived here with Princess Laegjarn and Laevatein. Sure, they gave him some gripe, but that’s what you got for being filth amongst royalty. He had fun. This beach was practically a damn paradise compared to anythin’ he’d seen in his life. An endless swatch of brilliant blue surrounded the horizon, the kind that screamed life as opposed to a freezing death he’d seen in Nifl. Its waves were calm lull, its breeze a gentle whisper. The sun was shining bright yet it never reached Muspell’s scorching heat. Hints of salt lingered in the air without traces of sulfur and burnt flesh.

More than anything, it was Nifl’s friendliness that disturbed him. The growing peace was no excuse to treat him with such niceties, especially that brat Ylgr. It was as if the war between them never happened, as if the bodies burnt and frozen and torn under blades were naught but a hazy dream. Not something he liked. A massacre, that was what it was. What _he_ was.

Still, Helbindi didn’t have it in him to refuse the outstretched hands. Or to leave and walk away when, much to his own surprise, he found himself having fun building sandcastles.

That brat looked so happy.

But expectations had to be maintained and today it came in the form of the Askrans. Now, no offense to the royal brats, but Helbindi understood the commander’s stress, if only a bit. Not being able to take the low hanging fruit would have bothered him too, except it’s the commander’s own fault for not taking matters into her own hands. No use listenin’ to all those scums. Oppositions existed to be _crushed_.

So he walked away. Let the royals make nice with each other. This shovel and bucket were enough humiliation—to say the least of the ring of white flowers around his neck.

He ain’t tossin’ it away, though. Ylgr’s face when she handed it to him—

That brat looked so happy.

It reminded him of Menja. She, too, would have been happy here.

However, the memory that greeted him was the blackened husk of the slums they had lived in. The slums she had died in.

With a loud grunt, Helbindi kicked the sand until it burst.

He also would have smacked something with the shovel if Kiran wasn’t creepin’ on him.

For a while the summoner had been tailing him, and it wasn’t even the fun kind of tailing. His thick boots were not suitable for the sand and every now and then Kiran would stumble on something or another, breaking whatever subtlety he was trying to keep with yelps and gasps.

“What,” Helbindi finally barked in annoyance.

“Nothing,” replied the summoner, followed by a small rustling and a few rapid pats. “And hi. Sorry for the fight just now. Do you need any company?”

“Nope.”

“Let me—ahem. Let me correct my wording. Can I stay with you, Helbindi?” asked Kiran between pants. “Of course, I can leave if you want me to.”

Plain, with just enough airiness to dilute the hope hidden behind those words. Helbindi brushed away the sudden weight sinking in his guts and lowered his pace without thinking, almost stopping until he could hear the smaller footsteps beginning once again. “Who the fuck do you think I am? You thought this beach is mine? Do whatever you want,” he grumbled.

“Oh.” A soft giggle, and the summoner quickened his pace as if getting some second wind. “Okay.”

The silence returned, this time less stifling than before. He would have thought Kiran a busybody if he didn’t know better. This wasn’t the first and neither would it be the last time the summoner followed him.

At thought he thought it was a simple want. And for a while all signs did point to that. Kiran’s attempt to spend time with him was so pathetically obvious. The not-so-casual brushing of skins, the not-so-furtive inhale every time they passed each other. The taut tension as the summoner halted whatever he was planning to do to watch him walk away. All lingering gaze, full of want.

Helbindi enjoyed it. The fact that he had started wondering how Kiran’s body would feel against him was unimportant. Natural consequences.

He knew his own body’s appeal, used it when he was in search of release. Everyone else seemed to think of him as nothin’ more than a tool, so he made that feelin’ mutual. If Kiran wanted a quick romp, a little secret taste, then who the fuck was he to refuse? It wasn’t as if the summoner was fugly. The exact opposite, in fact. Besides, there was that relic of his. It stopped literal gods, world-destroying dragons, and _fucking Surtr_ from wreaking havoc, it damn sure was capable of controllin’ a meagre filth if he ever wanted to.

However, what happened was just a whole frustrating load of nothin’. Kiran seemed content to just wastin’ time tryin’ to walk to him, chat him up, and sit together like some kind of wuss. Even now he just walked and walked, doing nothing Helbindi expected him to do.

He didn’t know what this thing between them was. It ain’t pity, fuck no, Helbindi would have literally tossed the summoner away if Kiran ever thought he was pathetic, but this was equally brittle. Breaking the stalemate would be easy, no shit, except his role in the battlefield was never one of precision. All he did was to charge through the enemy ranks and smash their formation to dust.

That was—unnecessary. Yes, unnecessary. Forget the fact that he had no longer looked forward into clashing with Askr. No point in harming the summoner with his brutality. They were no longer in war.

A short walk later and they arrived at the different side of the beach. Rocks and pebbles were scattered amongst the sand and in the distance, a rising cliff stood tall and solitary. It sheltered a gathering of smaller rocks, jutting above the crashing waves like a dragon’s spines.

By now Kiran had started to pant in exhaustion and really, the whole act reminded him of a miserable dog. Saw ‘em a lot in Muspell, all bones and skins and nothing else, begging for scraps in the slums or dumbly following the destruction he carved with his army. Like those moments, Helbindi shouldn’t give a fuck. But he always ended up driving those dogs away before crueler kids or soldiers would get their hands on them.

And here, Helbindi finally turned around when the summoner fell once again with a louder crash. Kiran was slumping against a rock, breathing heavily, and he was weak and limp when Helbindi lifted him up.

Whatever the summoner was about to say died at his withering glare. “Stop babblin’,” grunted Helbindi as he plopped the smaller man onto a nearby rock and kneeled down. “Make some noise if it hurts.”

Large hands began briskly yet carefully patting the sand off the robe. Kiran’s body was small and thin under the flowing garment, more a tactician’s physique than a fighter, with a receding softness that might have been baby fat before he arrived here.

“Spread your arms.”

Still panting, Kiran obeyed, raising his hands horizontally and letting Helbindi turn him around like a doll. That relic of his was holstered around the waist, practically unguarded. It would have been too easy to grab the relic, or to swing his fist into the summoner’s jaws or ribs. He’d absolutely die for it, so fuck that noise, but this lack of guard was more than mere foolishness. No one could remain foolish and survive Loki.

After every inch of the summoner’s body had been checked and Kiran no longer panted in exhaustion, Helbindi stood up and started walking away.

Kiran, as expected, stood up and followed him again. This time they walked side by side. “Thank you,” he said before they could go far.

“Save your words,” said Helbindi without looking. “See any healers around here? Yeah, exactly. Don’t wanna be blamed if you can’t walk back.”

“No one’s gonna do that.”

“You’ll be surprised, Summoner.”

“And why is that?”

Helbindi turned to look at the smaller man.

Under the hood, Kiran was grinning, warm and light and filled with enough emotions to fill what was visible of his cheeks with blush. That look could only be described as happy, and that bothered the former general more than he wanted it to be. No way the summoner was glad to see a filth like him, nope.

“What’s damn funny!?” He barked aggressively, squaring his body as if readying himself for a confrontation.

“Nothing,” said Kiran, shrugging impishly.

“Yeah? Then why the hell are you here?”

The secrecy bristled, and Kiran must have noticed because he looked down and gnawed his gloved thumb for a few seconds. “Okay, we aren’t going anywhere with this, so I’ll start.” Kiran sighed, and wiped the gathering sweat on his forehead before speaking again. “Are you…okay? Are you _feeling_ okay?”

He looked and sounded damn serious about it and Helbindi looked away, more than a little flustered. “ _What_.”

“I was wondering if you want someone to talk with.”

“And why the hell do you think I need that?”

“I mean, you can say I felt a bit bad for what happened.” More pause, and Kiran slightly folded himself. “It _is_ a good day you’re having.”

Here, the former general stepped closer. “Are you saying,” he began in a growl, “That the reason you followed me here was for a damn _apology_?”

“Well, no. Okay, yes, but only if necessary.” Kiran craned his neck up, gazing directly at the much larger man with no hint of fear. “But that’s not the main reason.”

Helbindi leaned even closer. “So!?”

“I just want to see if you’re okay.”

“Yeah, pointless shit.”

“Then why did you walk away from the group in the first place?”

Helbindi raised his voice. “Again, what does it matter—“

“Because I care for you.”

They stopped at the cliff.

Here, Kiran turned to look at him, neither meek nor wanting, but with a certain kind of determination that punched the air out from his lungs and buried the rest of his words.

“Because I care for you, maybe more than I should, and I—“ Kiran stopped, sighed, and shook his head. “I don’t want you to feel bad. Is that so weird?”

Damn it.

Helbindi _laughed_. A loud, acidic, mirthless laugh, making the summoner jolt and froze on the spot.

The ugliest parts of him thought it sounded just like Surtr.

Damn it all.

The bucket in his hand clammered loudly as he slammed his fist right beside the summoner. “Dumbass. There’s plenty of better people to flock around. Don’t waste your time with filth.”

“…I don’t think you’re as bad as what you pretended yourself to be,”

“ _Really_ ,” drawled Helbindi in a snarl before baring his teeth, looming monstrously above the smaller man. “Ask your comrades, then. Or Princess Fjorm. Or better yet, ask the survivors in Nifl. Wait, _there isn’t any_. _Because Muspell burned them all to crisp. Because –I- burned them all to crisp._ ”

Kiran clenched the edge of his robe, but he remained still and unwavered as he kept looking up. “I’m not talking about the kingdom or the army. I’m talking about you.”

“There’s no difference, idiot.”

Kiran folded his arms, “Well, Ylgr disagrees.”

Helbindi let a tactless snort. “That brat’s head needs to be checked.”

“And I disagree with that assessment too,” replied the summoner petulantly.

_“Then you also need to have your head checked!”_

His blood reached the boiling point, and Helbindi swung his shovel in anger.

A couple of smaller rocks shattered with a loud bang, and while the summoner was never anything near dignified, the gasp he was letting right now sounded more like a terrified animal than anything else. Quickly, sharp thorns prickled all over Helbindi’s guts, turning his rage into bitter bile in a flash.

Guilt, he realized moments too late.

His whole body tensed into an aggressive coil. At some point he had dropped the shovel and inched closer, breathing roughly, finger pointing aggressively at the smaller man’s clothed chest. “Power is all that matters, Summoner, and a failed beast is nothing but _filth,”_ he hissed. “Learn that quickly and spare yourself some pain.”

Throughout all that, Kiran remained still. Trembling and frozen, but with eyes still trained at him. With a twisted sense of satisfaction, Helbindi wondered if this was what broke him. If this was the worst sight he’d seen in a kingdom full of heroes and villains.

Apparently not, judging from how he leaped forward and practically tackled Helbindi in a hug. Too tight, and would have been ribs-crushing if not for their difference in physique.

“Look, I don’t know what sort of gaslighting Surtr has subjected you to, but he’s a piece of shit and that automatically disqualifies him from judging people,” hissed the summoner, clearly holding back rage that was not, as far as Helbindi was concerned, directed at him. “And I know you won’t believe it, so I’ll just have to keep hammering it until it sticks into your stubborn head. _You are worth something_. A whole lot of something, in fact.”

From deep inside the former general, a hot and bright warmth began to stir, simultaneously pleasant and uncomfortable.

“And you listen—“ Kiran pulled back and stared straight at him. “I’m not here because you’re so damn useful,” he stammered through. “Also not because of your body although you’re pretty much my type and that is a very, _very_ nice body.”

“So why?” Helbindi asked, voice hoarse and not sharp enough to be a snarl.

A pause, and Kiran made an indignant _hmph_. “Hell if I know, you aren’t exactly the talking kind.” Then he flashed him a wide, shameless grin. “But I do want to know. And so far, I like what I’m seeing.”

Helbindi would have denied everything if his voice wasn’t caught at his throat. That stalemate of theirs had been shattered and for once Helbindi couldn’t understand any of it. Yglr was young and foolish. The Askran princess was naïve and single-minded. Kiran was none of those and yet he kept wasting time with a filth like him.

“You’re just setting yourself for disappointment,” he tried to argue back.

“Or maybe I’m setting myself for bliss. Never considered that, don’t you?” Kiran said in a huff. “Dang, I really need to speak to Anna about properly studying mental health. Swear I lack the gravitas for heroic epiphanies,” he added in a ramble. “Anyway!”

Kiran thrusted a finger.

“I don’t even know anything about your feelings, or which genders do you go to and whatnot, but I like you, I care for you, and I’m sure as hell am not going to let anyone talk shit about you. And that includes yourself. Get it?”

For once, Helbindi was dumbstruck.

“ _Get it_?”

He groaned. Loudly. Waved his hands in exasperation. “Alright, _fine_!”

Kiran nodded in satisfaction, before his movement turned stilted and awkward. The sight made Helbindi’s stomach turn into knots. “ _Excellent_. Now excuse me while I second guess everything I just said and try not to smash my head into this rock,” he mumbled while turning himself around.

Helbindi didn’t know what to do. That would kill him in the battlefield and that would kill him here. And yet, he never pushed the summoner away. Never really wanted to. And neither could he stop the surge of warmth and nerves from spreading all over his body.

Maybe there was truth in Kiran’s words.

“Hey,” he called out, voice losing most of his usual aggression.

Kiran was resting his head on the tall rock in front of them. “Please do not disturb me in my moment of wangst. If you’re planning to reject me, just say it to my back. I don’t think I can handle any direct rejection right now, thank you.”

Helbindi snorted. “And who’s rejectin’ who?”

“Eh?”

Slowly, the summoner turned his head around, face torn between wonder and horror. He looked silly, so damn silly, and yet Helbindi didn’t frown like he used to. Hell, he might be _grinning_ right now.

“So you like me,” he said, fencing the summoner between both his arms. “And I must admit that you’re not that bad yourself.”

Kiran raised an eyebrow in a silent question.

“All I’m sayin’ is—“ Helbindi looked down before letting a gruff breath, inching closer again under a very different situation. “ _Fine_. You think I’m not filth? Then I wanna see you prove me wrong. And if that means you got to touch me and I got to touch you? Even better.”

If anything, the perplexed face turned even worse.

Helbindi pulled back and ruffled his hair. “Rgggggghh, do you want me to spell it out or somethin’?”

“ _Yes please_.” Kiran’s jaw started to drop. “I can’t think. I’m seeing a parade of Fehs flying around my head. One is wearing your horn. The other is wearing a smaller Feh.”

This was getting nowhere.

“Ah, fuck it.”

Helbindi pulled Kiran until he was lifted off his feet and pressed his lips clumsily onto his own. It was nothing much. No fireworks or shit. They were soft and tasted of salt. At least no teeth were knocking.

Then he dropped the unmoving summoner to the ground again. “There! Get it now!?” he shouted, looking away.

Kiran just blinked. Slowly, he raised a hand to touch his own lips, as if not believing what just happened. Then his lips slowly curved up, growing wider and wider until it bloomed into a little adorable laugh, and _there_ were the fireworks. Brighter than the sun and louder than the crashing waves, spreading warmth through Helbindi’s entire body. Greater than the thrill of battle, and so, so sweet.

It made him want to kiss the summoner again, and so he did.

Their lips were dry and neither of them had a particularly fragrant breath, but neither of them seemed to mind. This time Kiran chased the sensation with unbridled hunger, leaning forward and gripping his arms, his jaws, his cheeks.

Helbindi felt sated and ravenous at the same time. It was confusing and he decided touching Kiran more would reveal the answer. Placing a hand under the summoner’s narrow hips, He lightly slammed the smaller man against the rock, sliding his body up until they could get better access on each other’s lips. The terrain and his own sweating body meant grinding their bodies was a bit hard, but not for a lack of trying. Some part of Helbindi vaguely noted how fuckin’ good it feels, and if this meant he’s gonna have to lift the smaller man every time they made out, then what a happy man he would be.

Someone growled and it could be either of them.

It continued until Kiran’s body was limp and boneless when they pulled back. His lips were red and swollen and Helbindi was certain so were his own, and he briefly wondered what the rest of the party would say about it before throwing the concern away.

“You think people are starting to look for us?” asked Helbindi, flashing a wicked grin.

“Maybe,” breathed Kiran, still dazed for a long time. He was holding the rock behind him for purchase. “Maybe not. Wait, there’s Ylgr. Yeah, I think they are already halfway.”

“Heh.”

After a few more moments of blankness, the summoner finally adjusted his posture and his robe. “She really likes you, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah. You told me.” Ah, fuck, he’s gone this far. “She’s fine. One hell of a brat, but fine. I don’t dislike her. Don’t tell her that!”

“Aw, no fair.” Kiran pouted, then made a warm smile that Helbindi decided he wants to see more of. “But I also like you. Really like you. Really really really really really really really like you, as a great bard of my time would have sung.”

“Cut that crap.” He flicked the summoner’s forehead off, but he was grinning too. “I know.”

“Good.” Kiran fixed his hood, and offered his hand. “I hope we’ll get to know each other more. I’m serious when I said you’re not the talking type.”

“Maybe,” said Helbindi. “Might not like what you’ll hear.”

“Well, I’ve had quite a few Heroes for comparison, so try me.”

Helbindi’s heart kept hammering against his ribs and heat started to gather on his cheeks. Unfamiliar, but decidedly not unpleasant. Absolutely not filthy. He wouldn’t mind having more of this feeling, actually wanting to see what lies ahead.

“Yeah, sure.”

For the second time of the day, he reached for the outstretched hand.

Yeah, today fucking exceeded his expectations.

**Author's Note:**

> Helbindi's self-esteem issues (see: the dialogues in the latest Paralogue) are rising to the surface here, mostly in the form of good ol' "why do you want to be with someone like me". The way I see it, it's half the toughness one would get from surviving at the bottom rung of society, but part of it would be Surtr being Surtr, whether personally or structurally.
> 
> Thank you for reading <3
> 
> ...Helbindi is absolutely my type in so many ways, and his summer form was practically the first one ever that drove me to create offerings to the RNG. There you have it, an offering fueled by thirst and nothing else. SUMMER HELBINDI COME HOME.
> 
> Believe it or not, it starts as smut. But the more I carry on the more it becomes character study and the smut gets cut. If I still haven't gotten him, I might take that draft and finish it.


End file.
